


On Crested Shores

by Leng_Xue



Category: Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
Genre: Drama, F/M, prose
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-22 17:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11971758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leng_Xue/pseuds/Leng_Xue
Summary: How strong is an en, really?  Some bonds are created differently from others.  Chiyo meets Nobu instead of the Chairman on that fateful day.





	1. The Sign

There is nothing worse than the here and now.  When one cannot peer into the past and remember anything worse than the present, they are helpless.  They know that they have hit rock bottom at last.

The young servant girl squatted and cried, feeling the sign of her destiny slip further and further away with each passing second. Beneath the wooden slats of the bridge, the Shirakawa ran stronger than before, fueled by her pain and misery.  It accepted the water leaking from her eyes as tribute to its own power.  She felt worse than ever once she realized this.  It was as if her own kin had turned on her.  She hated herself for _being_ so weak, yet there was nothing she could do about the situation.

Where had her strength gone?  Where was the bravery and cleverness she exuded the day she went to see Satsu?  If one day, things would right themselves even a little bit, then she would live for it.  She could not give up.  This set back did not matter.  Her past two years as a maid was a major dip in luck, so now, her future would change, no?  The cycle of life would surely bring things back to what they once were when she lived in Yoroido.  Chiyo understood this well.  Perhaps better than most her age.

And that was enough.

This knowledge gave her the strength to pick herself up, to reassemble the pieces she had lost.  Instead of continuing to cry like the child she once was, Chiyo stood and dried her puffy eyes, leaving the Shirakawa where it laid.  As she rushed past the sparse crowd on the bridge, a couple of young aides and a geisha standing beside a tall man tutted at her.  Chiyo recognized her as Izuko, one of the more prominent geisha of Ponto-cho, but did not care for how rude she was being, practically forcing the group to scatter so that she could pass.

If destiny would not show itself to her, then she would find it herself.  The two hair ornaments Auntie had given to her earlier that day _must_ have been the sign.  A comb and a clip bundled like the moth that had dissolved before her eyes.  Hatsumomo had taken them from her for delivery to the geisha who owned them.  Where could they be now?

Her mind raced as she flew through the streets, dodging vendors and children.  It was a lost cause searching for a pair of ornaments in all of Gion.  Chiyo would not have been surprised if she had never found them.  The idiom “like a needle in a haystack” rose in her mind at that moment, the girl feeling the irony and hopelessness all at once.  It sunk to her stomach like a stone in water.  There was nothing she could do but stay determined and keep searching.

If she put her mind to it, she would see it through.  She had to.  Chiyo could not bear to revisit the disappointment she had felt that day when her foot slipped innocently from the roof—

As if the gods had not looked down and mocked her enough that day, the girl smashed into a board of pure, inky black, bounced off, and landed painfully on her bottom.  She cried out in pain, sitting dazed in the dust for a long moment before a gruff voice retrieved her from her confusion.

“Hey, little girl.  Are you all right?” he asked.

It is an eerie thing seeing something that one knows they should not have set eyes upon.  This man seemed to be the physical manifestation of that feeling, his strange features at first confusing, then horrifying as Chiyo began to process the image before her.

A man who was less human and more exposed flesh, the cruel twist being that his body was crafted in such a way that the top layer of his skin looked translucent.  Chiyo imagined that _this_ is what people really looked like on the inside, not understanding that the scars were the product of fire.  The man wore a black suit with a red tie, the sleeve of one arm pinned up.

So this is what she had crashed into.

Chiyo ripped her eyes away, standing as quickly as she could muster with pain flaring in her bottom.  She bowed so low and deep that she could only make out the bottoms of his slacks and the shine on his leather shoes on the dirt road.

“I am deeply sorry for running into you, sir.  This lowly maid begs forgiveness,” she said, hoping he could pick out her words from the background noise.

There was a pause as long and clear as day, so silent that Chiyo could not hear the crowds around them.  The sound of river reeds swaying in the wind brushed over her ears.  She eased slightly, her eyes drifting to something he held in his one hand—something wrapped in white!

“Be more careful next time.  You didn’t answer my question, girl.”

Without being asked, she stood up, turning her gaze to his.  His eyes stood out against his weeping features, strong and dark where everything else was weak and soft.  To her astonishment, the sun framed his fedora, making her imagine that this man was the westerners’ famed son of God.

“Y-yes, sir.  I am fine,” she said.  Almost like an afterthought, she added, “Thank you.”

He raised a brow, staring at her in the most peculiar fashion.  Was it because she thanked him for simply asking about her wellbeing?  Because she had said it so genuinely?  He brushed off her words like a crane shaking morning dew off its feathers.

“Your eyes…”

Chiyo averted them shyly, realizing that she had lost herself in the depths of his pupils.

At once, the man’s voice softened.  “Now, now.  There will be none of that.  Look at me.”

He did not touch her.  Not even to raise her chin.  After he had looked his fill (and she hers), he straightened before her, nimbly unwrapping the item in his hand with surprising dexterity.  Chiyo’s eyes widened at how gracefully his digits flowed over the silk.  His index finger threaded through the knot and lifted ever so slightly as if he were flicking water away.  At the same time, his thumb and ring fingers pinched the fabric down to reveal the cloth’s contents.

A single ripe peach.

“How brave you are.  I have never met someone, let alone a child, stand before me as bravely as you.  There is determination in your gaze.  I see it.”

He handed the bundle to her carefully and she smiled.  For the first time in a long while, Chiyo knew without a doubt that this was what it felt like to be happy.  Such joy from a simple act of giving.  While it probably meant nothing to this man, it made her beam like she was holding the finest diamond on the face of the earth.  She thanked him, and bowed again, completely unraveled by the wave of tingles that fluttered throughout her body.  This was the sign she had been waiting for.

“Your name, Miss Maid,” he murmured, “Tell me.”

“Sakamoto Chiyo, sir.”

“Well then, Sakamoto-san.  Keep your eyes ahead of your feet.”  The corners of his lips twitched at her frantic nod.  He turned and vanished into the crowd, leaving a starry-eyed little girl in his wake, rooted to the ground as if her feet had been stapled to it.

*****

The back of the Ichiriki was as beautiful as the front, the only exception being the smell and the occasional skitter of a stray cockroach.  Even as the girl hid there, munching daintily on her prize, she thought this was the only place glorious enough to share this moment with her. 

If a passing stranger had seen young Chiyo squatting at the edge of the garden, chewing on a piece of fruit and holding a square of white silk to her cheek, they might have casted it off as an adventuring child lost in the wonders of Gion.  It would have been dismissed and forgotten like everything that went on in this curious little corner of the world.

For Chiyo, however, the possibilities were endless.  The well of hope that resided in her heart had replenished, and now she was ready to take on the challenges of daily life once again.  The rough, smoky scent in the silk gave her comfort and courage.  He called her determined!  She imagined that one day, she would tear through the world like a wildfire…maybe to see him again.

But she was dubious as to how she would go about it.  The man had been walking through Gion on his own, dressed in clothing that the average businessman wore.  For all she knew, he was not a regular patron of the teahouses nor a person of considerable standing.

The thought saddened her greatly.  She might never see only person who had bothered to show her kindness again.

The sweet, white flesh of the peach looked like the inside of her arm, pure and smooth.  So unlike his, rough and red and…  Chiyo had forgotten about his hideousness the moment she looked into his eyes.  For a man who looked so much like a monster, he was more human than even Hatsumomo, the most beautiful creature in existence.

One could never judge a person by appearance alone.  Before Chiyo knew it, she was crying again, the salty tang of tears mixing with the sweet peach juice that flowed down her chin.  Chiyo sobbed quietly as she ate, holding the pit to take the last bite.  Flies were swirling around her fingers, hungry for a taste of the sticky fluid that stuck to her skin.

“Go away!” she said.  She swatted them, wiping her face and nose with her sleeve.  The handkerchief was too precious to get snot and tears on.  She tucked it into her obi, feeling humbled and lucky that she did not have to experience the prejudice the man did.  She judged him on his appearance in the beginning too, and he did not deserve that.  If anything, he was not bitter like Hatsumomo though he had likely survived events that were far worse than whatever _anyone_ had experienced in Gion.

So she made up her mind to find him.  Even if it was just a glimpse or a word, she would show him the same kindness he had shown her on this day.

The Shirakawa was nearly bereft of people by the time she returned.  The mid-afternoon heat had driven the crowds indoors for iced tea, fans, and the cool of the shade.  Even the theater was packed for the showing of Shibaraku, but Chiyo doubted all the people there paid admission solely for the performance.  She stood a few yards from the stream’s edge, holding the peach pit carefully in the palm of her hand.  With the other, she dug a small hole deep enough that the pit would not be uncovered by wandering feet or animals.

She made small mound of dirt and stuck a stick into the top.  Clapping her hands together, she prayed at the makeshift grave, feeling the death of her past deep in her heart.


	2. Frost

For the next few days, Chiyo felt positively weightless. Upon returning home after burying the peach pit, nothing had changed, but she felt that her future had never been brighter.

The sun had never shone so warmly as it had that day, though. To make up for this, she basked in the afterglow of that meeting, thinking of the man as often as she dared without her attitude affecting the quality of her work. Not even Pumpkin had noticed the change she had undergone. This was something Chiyo would carry to her grave if needed. Even a maid was allowed to keep secrets of her own.

And in the shade of the night, she would recall his face to mind, thinking of his dark eyes and how they burned like coals in a fire. Nothing else mattered besides his gaze and how clear it had been when it was connected with her own. It had been beautiful in a way. Chiyo had never seen someone who had that kind of passion in their eyes. It was as if he burned for life itself and all it had to offer.

So she searched.

She looked for names and faces, for anything that would help her figure out who that strange man was. Whenever she had to run errands, she looked around the streets, searching for a swaying sleeve or a red tie. She listened for talk of a frightening man with skin like melted wax, straining her ears for exclamations of fear and horror, because that was what undoubtedly followed him wherever he went. Chiyo might have been naïve, but she was not blind. Cruelty took many forms, and she had had the misfortune of experiencing such things even at her young age.

A week passed without any word, stealing by like a thief in the darkness.

As she walked back to the okiya one day, glum from her failure in searching for the man, she sat on a bench outside of the mochi shop to take a break. Her feet ached from the running she had done to maximize the area of her search within the hour she had to deliver a couple of fans Hatsumomo had forgotten to bring to dance practice.

The wind fluttered through the narrow street, brushing past vendors' flags. As the child watched them sway, she wondered if she could move with the air like that too if she were a leaf. She would fly back to the sea with no worries or cares; the ocean of eternity would take her if no one else would. Wind and water were not so different. One was bound to the sky while the other was always called to the earth. In a way, they mixed quite well.

The sound of crinkling paper drew her out of her musing. As she turned to the source of the noise, the breeze blew the cover of a magazine on the end of the bench open, its pages shimmering madly in the late afternoon light. The girl delighted in the sight, reaching out eagerly to feel the thin paper tremble beneath the air's invisible hand. Her fingers danced over the pages, flitting over worn edges and crinkles until one page caught the end of her nail.

Chiyo dipped her finger deeper, letting the page with a spread of two men wiggle against her hand.

Stuck upright in the midst of the wind's madness was  _him._

He looked up at her from the image, a sleepy expression on his face.

Chiyo snatched the magazine up like she had found gold. It was a picture of him and some other man who was holding a ceramic object. Smoothing it out, the girl perused the news article for what little she could read. The more difficult kanji was completely lost on her, but from what she could make out, the man she had met on the side of the street was actually the president of a company!

"Iwamura…Electric's Nobu…Toshi-ka-zu," she whispered, struggling with the characters for his name. "Nobu…"

Chiyo smiled to herself even as the owner of the mochi shop came out and shooed her from the front of the establishment.

She kept the pages of the article inside her kimono, hidden from sight. Until she could read it in its entirety, she would keep it.

Chiyo soon found that talk of Nobu had been everywhere—at least through mention of Iwamura Electric. It was just that she had not known of his association with them before then. Mother and Auntie talked about the Chairman quite a lot, a man Chiyo now knew was the one in the picture next to Nobu. He looked so old with his gray hair and round features that Chiyo nearly mistook him for one of the elderly.

The okiya held little promise for information through written word; however, Chiyo knew that Mother read the occasional business newspaper to keep up with the conversation some of her mahjong friends employed during their bi-monthly meetings. The girl also knew that were easier ways to acquire information without threat of punishment if the woman ever found her rifling through her things. For the time being, she would stick to nabbing old papers from trash cans.

During her breaks, she would squat in the shade of the roofing tile, reading the papers as secretly as she dared. The other servants in the house hardly paid attention to her after her disgrace, and cared little for what she did as long as she was within eyeshot. If anything, disappearing in her room every so often would have roused suspicion and possible punishment.

The only negative aspect of this was that she often lost track of her surroundings.

Having Pumpkin or Auntie stumble across her while she was idling was one matter… but Hatsumomo was quite another. Chiyo thought she had gone to the little dance school for practice. Hatsumomo and Pumpkin were almost always absent in the morning due to the early nature of the dance school's lessons. As such, Chiyo made the error of believing she was safe when she knew the geisha was anything but careless. Everything that happened in the okiya eventually came back to her, and though Chiyo had not been much of a threat as of late, Hatsumomo still kept tabs on things she found suspicious about her.

Hatsumomo rounded the corner carelessly, kicking a pile of Chiyo's reading paraphernalia and shrieking in a faux tone of pain. It died in her throat when she saw the object of the girl's interest laid out on the floor for all the world to see. Chiyo's hand laid on the image of Nobu's chest, frozen in place at Hatsumomo's sudden appearance. At once, the geisha laughed out loud.

It was hideous to Chiyo's ears. At once, the woman's features morphed into that of a shrieking hag's. In the child's eyes, this was her true form.

The geisha was so amused that she failed to see Chiyo's look of horror and disgust.

"In love with a lizard, now are we?" Hatsumomo considered the image for a moment before Chiyo slammed the paper shut and gathered the things the woman had scattered.

"Stop. Did I say you could do that?"

Immediately, Chiyo dropped everything, standing when Hatsumomo motioned with her finger.

"No, ma'am."

"Good. Now that you understand, why don't you tell me about your lover?"

Chiyo's face crumpled, images of Koichi and Hatsumomo in one of the maid's rooms coming to mind. "Lover? He's a man! An adult!"

"Oh, but surely you know what men and women do by now, don't you?" Her face twisted into a sickening smile, the whites of her teeth glinting harshly in the sunlight. It made Chiyo feel nauseous. If it were not for the presence of the silk square in her obi, she might have thrown up right then and there.

"A little whore like you would like that, wouldn't you? Even from a one-armed freak like Nobu-san. You and your sister really  _are_  alike. Tainted blood and all that."

Her eyes swept over Chiyo's ashen face; the damage had been done. She brought the tip of her sleeve to her lips, tittering with laughter all the way down the corridor. The fun she had had at the girl's expense was more than enough compensation for getting in her way.

Chiyo waited until she was gone, her clenched fists shaking in rage. She threw herself to the edge of the walkway, spitting out the saliva that had welled in her mouth. It puddled on the courtyard dirt, dribbling in long ropes as Chiyo forced the revulsion down. The ground swam before her eyes, riddled with the filth Hatsumomo had pushed into her ears.

She felt dirty. The sanctity of all Nobu Toshikazu had done for her that day was tainted. The easy, carefree way she insinuated such things made her feel worthless in a way that Chiyo could not describe. Just thinking about having countless men touching her that way made her cough and choke. To place Nobu, her savior, with those ranks of faceless beasts was more than she could handle.

For the first time in a long while, Chiyo felt an overwhelming desire for revenge. The fear and helplessness of being trapped in the Nitta Okiya under Hatsumomo's rule evaporated, replaced with pure hatred. Chiyo was not one to pick a fight that could not be won, but she swore that one day…one day she would rise above the senseless animosity that had been placed upon her and show Hatsumomo something far greater than whatever she had achieved in all her time as a geisha.

She picked up her things, wiping her mouth on the back of her sleeve. Sometimes, it does not occur to others that water can harden into ice.


End file.
